Road Trip
by mythweaver1
Summary: FFIV. Post-TAY. Non-cannon. Moonclaw 'verse. Royal weddings are a royal pain. A Kieran and Cuore tale of misadventure.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This has been sitting on my hard drive for three years…ever since I first visited Moonclaw and started writing this in the airport. THREE YEARS LATER, I'm finally getting around to finishing it ;)**

 **This is a gift!fic for Moonclaw, so these are her characters and her world. I'm only borrowing them for a bit.**

 **Premise: Royal weddings are a royal pain, especially when Rosa is involved.**

 **Road Trip**

Cuore stared up at the Farragut completely unimpressed.

"They sent you on this?" Cuore asked, dubiously raising one of her teal brows as the airship's engines cycled down to a low, steady hum.

Kieran hopped down the ramp; a pained look on his face.

"Did you really think they'd give us one of the good ships?" he asked. "Those are for the ceremony."

"Typical Rosa," Cuore intoned, wrinkling her nose.

"I have my list—you?" Kieran asked, wiping grease onto his trousers before resting his hands on his hips.

Cuore began to list things off on her fingers. "Feathers for Ursula's dress, a frying pan from her mother…"

"The band from Damcyan," Kieran tacked on, leading her aboard. "Destroying the original marriage license in Mythril…"

"Wine in Mysidia, and," Cuore paused, giving Kieran a hassled look. "The _ridiculous_ veil from the Sylves that I'm sure cost Rosa half of Baron."

"Have you noticed how none of these places are remotely convenient?" Kieran asked with an exaggerated smirk.

"Yes," Cuore agreed. "You would think they would have coordinated this better."

Kieran made a strangled sound in his throat that might have been a laugh. "Baron can't coordinate a shipping lane much less a wedding."

Cuore grinned and then thrust out the bag that contained her belongings into Kieran's face.

Kieran stared at it, at once offended and surprised.

"What, you can't carry your own luggage?" he demanded, not making any motion to accept it.

Cuore propped her other hand on her hip. "What happened to chivalry?"

He looked back at her dubiously and then walked away. "It died."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The main cabin of the Farragut was spartanly furnished, and all of its floorboards creaked. One plank in particular was notoriously loose and always had to be kicked back into place.

"This ship was constructed by a fool," Cuore said, kicking the plank so hard that it bobbed in place like a springboard.

"Don't tell Cid that," Kieran said, poring over the maps again as several ninjas carried a large crate into the cabin. "And stop breaking my ship!" he added, glancing up.

"It's not your ship," she pointed out, just to be contrary.

"It may as well be my ship, since this is the one they always give me," he complained. "I think Kain _wants_ me to fall out of the sky and die."

After a moment, he frowned at the large crate that was now occupying most of the cabin and blocking his view of the stairs.

"What _is_ that?" he asked.

Cuore shrugged. "Edge didn't say, exactly. When he found out he was required to give a wedding gift, he spent several days cursing and then produced _this. "_

Kieran made a face at the crate and finally rolled his eyes. "Huh. So long as we have enough room for everything else."

"Which destination is first?" Cuore asked, walking over to join him at the table.

He waggled his finger over the map indecisively, as if there were no favorable directions.

"Troia," he decided, pursing his lips.

"What are all these squiggly lines?" Cuore asked, narrowing her eyes at what looked to be hand-drawn markings on the map.

"Kain was intoxicated one day and crossed off all the places he refused to travel."

"Troia is marked up several times," she observed.

Kieran slid back to the map, leaning his elbow on the edge of the table. "Oh wait. No, that was Izayoi."

Cuore snickered. "I've heard of her exploits there. I think she's been banned from that kingdom."

"They've drunk their way through all the northern kingdoms. Pretty sure they're banned everywhere," he said. "Which is why _I_ get the airship."

"You probably won't crash it," she pointed out.

Kieran grimaced and narrowed one of his eyes with a salty expression. "I might be tempted to after this."

She reached out and gripped his arm, utterly serious. "Not with me on board."

He grinned back at her wickedly and trotted up the cabin stairs.

"Kieran?" Cuore called after him, following him to the deck. "Not with me on board, right?"


	2. Something Blue

**Something Blue**

Troia's castle rose above the tops of the trees as Cuore and Kieran walked along the deeply rutted road from the airship's landing field to the town proper.

"What do you think Rosa intends to do with all those feathers?" Cuore asked, as she balanced on a narrow track of hard-packed dirt with her arms outstretched.

"Stuff a life-sized doll of Ceodore for when the real one runs for his life," Kieran said darkly.

Cuore frowned at him. "I don't remember Luca being involved in these plans," she said. "And Ursula would not be fooled by such a ruse."

Kieran speared her with a look he usually reserved for Ceodore.

"That was a joke," she said slowly, testing his reaction.

"Of course it was a joke," he shot back, and then tripped over a divot in the road, growling. "You'd think that after all of this trade by airship, the Troians would have _paved_ this stretch of road," he complained.

"It's not their fault you walk like a clumsy mule," she pointed out, still balanced like a dancer on her track.

Kieran rolled his eyes, strode toward her, and knocked her from her perch.

"Where is all this rudeness coming from?" Cuore demanded, jabbing him with her finger. " _I'm_ not the one making you gather all these items."

"You're right," he reflected. "This is Rosa's fault."

Cuore threw her teal hair over her shoulder indignantly. "Exactly right."

"But you deserved that," he said with narrowed eyes, taking off at doubled speed.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

As soon as they reached the castle, the Troian ambassador came out to greet them on the castle's causeway wearing nothing but a sheer leotard. The woman's coiffed red hair bobbed with each of her precisely placed steps, her hips sashaying side to side, as if she was trying to reinvent the art of walking.

She looked ridiculous.

Cuore's assessment darkened as the ambassador fixed Kieran in her unusually lavender gaze, devouring him with her eyes.

"We were understanding that there were feathers set aside for the royal wedding of Baron," Kieran said, sounding put out.

If he was aware that the woman was trying to undress him using only her eyes, he clearly didn't show it.

"We have harvested only the finest feathers for queen Rosa and princess Ursula," the ambassador said, biting the corner of her lip seductively, and glancing at Cuore as an afterthought.

"Come with me," she then said with an exaggerated twirl, leading them toward the castle's foyer.

Kieran cast Cuore a sidelong look as they set off, mouthing the words: "save me!" so that only she could see.

Cuore shrugged. What did he want _her_ to do about the overly libidinous Troians? Unless they touched him, of course. Then she would have no choice but to resort to physical violence.

Suddenly concerned, Cuore angled herself so that she walked between Kieran and all of the Troian guards who passed them along the way. Each woman was clad in the same sheer leotard as the ambassador, and Cuore glared at each of them, _daring_ them to break past her defenses.

"What are you doing?" Kieran asked when they were halfway through the castle's east wing.

"Protecting you," she answered.

"By hopping around me like a berserker?" he wondered.

"I've heard that they eat their men and bury the bones in the town. I won't let them do that to you," she hissed.

Kieran stared back at her. " _What?"_ he asked, shaking his head. "Cuore, you can't base all of Izayoi's stories on truth."

"And why wear clothing at all?" Cuore wondered aloud.

"What?" Kieran asked, clearly distracted.

"They may as well be nude," Cuore pointed out as a guard walked past, ignoring the shock on the woman's face. "Why waste such fine fabric when you could wander about in your own skin just as effectively?"

"There's a reason this place has so many scribbles on the map," Kieran muttered, fixing his eyes on the stone flagging in front of his feet with all of his concentration.

"Over here!" the ambassador called to them from ahead, gesturing toward a large solarium. The whole room sparkled from within, casting the ambassador in an ethereal glow.

"Where?" Kieran asked, once they reached the doorway.

"The—oh," the ambassador said, pouting. She placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the solarium, allowing _all_ of her attributes to bathe in the light. "They were here this morning."

A low growl started to emanate from Kieran's throat.

"How about you go and find them, then?" Cuore said with annoyance, staring at the ambassador until she trotted down the hallway to find answers.

"It couldn't be smooth," Kieran said, running his fingers through his dark hair. "It can never be smooth."

"Why on earth would they say they had our feathers when, in fact, they do not?" Cuore asked, tapping her foot against the marble tile.

"Too many people delegating tasks and no one communicating," Kieran complained. "What a waste of time."

"Edge complains about this all the time," Cuore remarked. "And I keep asking him why he doesn't just oversee everything himself."

Kieran made an incredulous face at her. "Because he's not a robot, Cuore."

" _I_ could do it," she protested.

"And not everyone is 'Her Highness the Immaculate Perfection'," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Again with the rudeness," Cuore complained. "Have I done something to offend you that I'm not aware of, or am I simply Rosa's proxy?"

Kieran sucked in a whistling breath and released it slowly. "Oh, it's not you," he said through gritted teeth.

"Unlikely," she answered, placing a hand archly on her hip.

"Cuore," Kieran said flatly.

"Kieran," she said back.

Just then, Leonora's enormous hat poked around the corner; followed, eventually, by Leonora herself. The epopt had clearly taken the opposite approach to Troia's fashion.

"Kieran! Cuo—"

"Not now, Leonora," Cuore said, halting the young woman with an outstretched hand. "We were in the middle of straightening out our differences."

"Oh," Leonora said, her blue eyes, wide. "Should I come back?"

"No, stay exactly where you are," Kieran entreated.

"Really?" Cuore asked, brows raised. "Do you think you can say what you need to say with an audience?"

"Fine!" Kieran snapped. "This entire mission is ridiculous! They're already _married,_ for crystals' sake! I'm going to _kill_ Ceodore for not telling his mother as soon as I get back to Baron, and _you_ need to stop being so insufferably arrogant!"

"How am _I_ being arrogant?" Cuore demanded.

"'Look at me, I'm perfect'," he quoted in an approximation of her voice. "'I can't carry my own things, but I could rule the world without the help of anyone else."

"That's not how I sound," Cuore pointed out, affronted. "And that's not what I meant!"

Kieran glared at her, anyway.

"So those chocobo feathers you'd asked for," Leonora said in her small, hesitant voice. "Our students _may_ have taken them to put in their flower arrangements for the Plumes and Sprigs festival. We could dismantle the arrangements, but it would take a day or two. You're more than welcome to sta—"

"We must leave at once," Cuore interrupted her, her eyes flashing.

"Are you sure? We could put you up in—"

"No, immediately," Cuore insisted.

"But you've only just—"

"Without delay."

"On this point, I actually agree," Kieran seconded, looking at Leonora who seemed deflated.

"I'm sorry," the epopt said wistfully. "We really had meant to leave them for you here, and now Rosa won't have her feathers for the ceremony…"

"Rosa will survive," Cuore snapped, striding from the solarium. "Kieran—less likely."

Kieran and Leonora watched Cuore leave, her teal hair streaming behind her like an angry wave.

"Are you sure you won't stay?" Leonora asked.

"No," Kieran said grimly, walking more slowly after Cuore. "I should go meet my fate before Cuore takes off with the airship and leaves me here."


	3. Something Old

Something old

"Cuore," Kieran pled, standing at the side of the airship and staring plaintively up at the chipped-paint railing. "Let me up."

For several long moments, silence reigned. A woodpecker landed on a nearby tree and began to tap its rhythm into the afternoon air.

"Cuore?" Kieran called again, weary of looking at the Farragut's shabby siding.

"No!" Cuore finally shouted over the side, walking close enough to the railing for Kieran to see her livid expression.

"Cuore, do _not_ leave me in this place!" Kieran cried.

"The Immaculate Perfection cannot hear you," she said, dramatically cocking her head with her hand to her ear.

Kieran sighed. There was nothing for it, then. He got low to the ground, coiling his body into a spring, and took off into the air.

He landed gracefully on the deck of the Farragut and found himself immediately nose to nose with Cuore.

"Arrogant," she repeated with narrowed blue eyes; unwilling to let the topic rest.

"You are," he said, trying to step around her and not succeeding. She matched him step for step; following him as if they were dancing.

"Explain what you mean," she demanded.

"You make assumptions about people," he groaned, attempting to feint left, then right. "You _assume_ I'm your servant. You _assume_ I need protection from other women."

"I was _told,"_ she said, copying his inflection. "That it was socially appropriate for men to help women with their items; and you all but asked me to save you from the ambassador! _"_ she pointed out.

"I was joking!" he snapped, taking several deep breaths as he finally stopped trying to duck and weave around her. She was acting no different than her usual self, but for some reason he was having a harder time tolerating her antics than normal.

"I'm sorry, Cuore," he said heavily.

Her stance opened and her expression relaxed.

"For what?" she asked.

"For yelling at you when it wasn't entirely you I was annoyed with," he said.

Cuore sniffed. "But you _are_ still annoyed with me."

"Because you don't need to constantly remind us that you could singlehandedly rule the world," he said sourly.

She blinked and shook out her impressively long hair. It fell in cascades over her shoulders, and for some reason it made Kieran more annoyed that even her _hair_ embodied perfection.

"I never said the whole world," she corrected him. "I meant Eblan. I would certainly need to appoint stewards to the other kingdoms if I were to oversee all of them successfully. Unless I could communicate with them telepathically, of cour—"

"Stop!" he cried, holding up his hands.

"What?" she asked.

"How is a normal human supposed to compete with this?" he demanded bitterly.

She frowned at him. "You've never expressed any interest in ruling anything," she pointed out. "What is there to compete with?"

Kieran couldn't help it—he burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

He kept laughing all the way to the captain's wheel, as Cuore stared after him quizzically.

"I don't understand," she protested.

"You wouldn't," he said, wiping tears from his eyes as he activated the ship's flight crystal and brought the ship back into the air.

"Well, I'm sorry for making assumptions," she said, returning to the start of their argument.

"At last, something you _don't_ do well," he said wryly, as he turned the ship in the direction of Fabul.

She looked at him with irritation. "Why are you always so happy when I fail, and deride the things I do well?" she asked.

"Because sometimes I like to believe that we're still on the same plane of existence!" he answered with a flat look.

"That I'm human, you mean," she said, testing him again. "Not a Maenad."

"You come from Rydia, after all," he said. "There's more human in you than I think you let on."

"Just because I don't display every unnecessary emotion, and I believe that things should be done without error, that makes me less than human?" she demanded.

"You _are_ human, Cuore!" Kieran cried, taking his hands off the wheel for a second to shake them angrily at her. "You're not a machine! You don't need to understand and control everything!"

"What are you even saying?" she shouted.

"Take your hands off the wheel every once in a while and make mistakes!" he shouted back.

"My hands aren't even on the wheel!" she argued, gesturing wildly at the ship's controls.

"I wasn't being literal!" Kieran screamed over the sound of the propellers.

They stared at each other long and hard for several minutes until Cuore whipped around and stalked away from the helm.

"Let me know when we've landed in Fabul!" she shouted at him.

"Why don't you _sense_ it!" he shouted back, suddenly angry again.

"I hate you!" he heard her cry as she ducked below deck.

"Well, good! Something we agree on!" he snapped back, banking hard left toward Fabul.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Fabul appeared on the horizon by evening, and when Kieran landed the ship, the sun had already sunk well below the horizon until not even a tinge of pink remained in the sky.

The castle town welcomed them with its warm lights and spiced scents as they walked through its main road where the townspeople were already sitting on their stoops, drinking tea. The Fabulians were not people to pass up opportunities for good food and drink, and Kieran gratefully accepted a meat bun from a woman closing her shop for the night, not bothering to ask for an extra for Cuore.

"Fabul is already infinitely more pleasant," Kieran said mostly to himself, appreciatively devouring the bun while Cuore glared at him from twenty feet away—a distance they had maintained since leaving the ship.

"Oh!" a man's voice suddenly cut through the crowd of people loitering in the street. "Lord Kieran and lady Cuore!"

Kieran polished off the last bites of meat bun just in time for one of Yang's guards to rush up to them. "We were told to expect you," the man said, relieved. "Come with me!"

"We were hoping to speak to the queen," Kieran explained as he followed the well-muscled guard who was wearing nothing but pants and two cross-sashes that were belted at the waist.

"She said to take you to her personally," the guard replied, ushering them along the town's main thoroughfare and straight through the castle's gate without hesitation.

Kieran glanced back at Cuore who was deliberately staring at everything but him. A storm was brewing in her blue eyes, and he was sure he'd hear about it before the night was done. Suddenly, her gaze locked onto his and he flinched, distracted just long enough not to notice they were already standing in the castle's main hall.

"Shouldn't we see king Yang first?" Cuore said for the first time all evening.

"He's still in meetings, my lady," the guard explained. "But the queen is presently waiting for you in the kitchens and wishes to see you immediately."

"Lead the way," Kieran said, gesturing forward.

The guard led them through corridors and rooms not usually traversed by formal guests, but that bisected the castle in half the time.

"The kitchens are through here," the guard finally said, pointing toward a steam-filled doorway.

Kieran ducked under the low stone lintel and found queen Sheila busy at work—spackled with flour and wielding a ladle in one hand and a goblet of wine in the other.

"Oh good, you're here," Sheila said, shooing her kitchen staff away once she saw both him and Cuore. "I have the fying pan for you."

"Do you actually have it or is it going to take more than a day to acquire?" Cuore asked acerbically.

Sheila gave Cuore a flat look, and then glanced at Kieran for an explanation.

"Bad experience in Troia," he explained to Sheila's comprehending nod.

"I see. Well I assure you that if I say I have something, I have it," the queen informed them tartly.

"The Troians seemed more concerned with flirting than giving us what we came for," Kieran added.

"Would you like some wine?" Sheila asked, already pouring a glass. "You look like you need some wine."

"I'll pass, thank you," Cuore declined.

"I would," Kieran said, accepting a goblet from Sheila and immediately downing a large mouthful.

"You won't be able to fly the airship," Cuore informed him, giving him a look of reproach.

"Oh, you're not going anywhere tonight," Sheila said matter-of-factly, taking another sip of wine, and settling herself comfortable onto a stool. "So the Troians were overly friendly and less than helpful?" she asked as if they were picking up a conversation they'd been carrying on for hours.

"They were that," Kieran agreed, finally appearing relaxed.

"Which one—the raven-haired girl, or the curly blonde?"

"Neither—the red head," Kieran said.

" _Every_ time I go there, I feel the need to fend them off with my frying pan!" Sheila said emphatically, nearly spilling her wine.

Kieran chuckled. "Cuore was convinced they were going to use me, kill me, and bury me in the town."

"I always did wonder what they do with their men," Sheila said seriously, glancing at Cuore. "Good job taking care of your man, Cuore."

Cuore fidgeted awkwardly.

"We're not—" Kieran began, eyeing Cuore furtively.

"It was inappropriate for me to be with a person whose free will was compromised," Cuore said, staring at the floor.

Sheila pursed her lips and arched a brow. "This nonsense again?"

"I keep telling her not to make assumptions," Kieran said with a shrug.

Sheila scoffed. "What does free will have to do with it?" she asked.

"I am a dangerous personality," Cuore said, angrily. "I can't be trusted. I don't want to coerce anyone into loving me."

Kieran's expression was flat, and Sheila took a giant gulp of wine.

"It _sounds_ as though you two need to have some wine and get reacquainted with each other. I know that solves many of Yang and I's problems."

"I don't understand—how will wine help?" Cuore asked.

Kieran sighed. "Do you see?"

Sheila stared at Cuore foggy-eyed. "Oh, I see," she answered.

"What? See what?"

"Cuore," Sheila said, sounding old and wise. "I've got half a mind to let Kieran take a whack at you with my frying pan."

Cuore looked puzzled.

"Why?"

"A boy who finds you this fantastically irritating isn't with you because of mind control," the queen replied.

"But we're not—'

"Girl," Sheila interrupted. "No one believes that for a second."

Sheila then poured another goblet of wine and thrust it into Cuore's hands.

"Drink the wine."

"But if we have a late start on tomorrow, what about our other errands?" the young woman insisted.

Sheila waved her hand in front of her face. "Pssh," she said. "Rosa's silly quest can wait for you two to sober up and work out this nonsense of being broken up again," she said, shooing them out of the kitchen and toward guest quarters.

"But the frying—"

"—can wait till tomorrow," Sheila commanded, shoving them into the first available room. "I'll leave the bottle."

"Aren't you concerned about your daughter's good fortune in her upcoming marriage?" Cuore asked, contorting her body so that she could still see Sheila's face as she was pushed backwards through the doorway.

Sheila leveled Cuore with such a look, that Cuore felt as though she was being taken to task. "If I didn't already know they were married, I still wouldn't care," Shelia said; paused, then added: "Don't tell Yang."

"But what about—"

"Good night!" Sheila called out, shutting the door in Cuore's face.


	4. Something Borrowed

Something Borrowed

The next morning, Kieran budged open the door and heard a heavy _clang_ of metal striking stone. He peered through the crack and saw Sheila's cast iron pan settled squarely on the floor.

"Cuore," he said, calling back over his shoulder.

When she didn't respond, he walked over to the teal-haired princess. She was still breathing, but she hadn't moved an inch since the night before when she'd finished her glass of wine and passed out backwards over the foot of the bed.

He poked her cautiously. "Cuore?"

A deep throated sound emerged from her mouth as she rolled over onto the floor.

"Well, then," he muttered, staring up at the window and squinting at the light streaming in. It was mid-morning at least and the wedding was now five days away.

With a sigh of exasperation, Kieran stooped low and slung Cuore's limp body over his shoulder.

"Of course you can't handle your alcohol," he said, kicking the door open with his foot and stooping a second time to grab the frying pan by its handle. "And you're the one complaining that _I_ can't fly."

Kieran carried Cuore down the hallway, eventually wandering into the kitchens after several wrong turns, and finding it bustling with activity.

"Good morning!" Sheila greeted him, emerging ethereally from a plume of steam.

The queen's enthusiasm did not match Kieran's condition, and she seemed to notice that immediately. Her shrewd gaze swept over him from head to toe, as a frown of disapproval spread across her lips.

"Leaving already?" she asked.

Kieran grunted, shifting Cuore's weight into a better position on his back. "Best to cover as much ground as possible while she's incapacitated."

Sheila's brow arched high. "How much did you _drink?"_

"One glass," he said with a note of bemusement in his voice.

Sheila placed both hands on her hips.

"Wow," she said, assessing the girl in a new light. "Don't leave just yet," Sheila then said, deftly snatching something from the counter and walking over to shove it in Kieran's mouth. "Food for the road."

Kieran attempted to thank her and not choke as he chewed on what he discovered to be a steamed dumpling.

"I'll meet you at the airship with more food and a little something extra for my daughter," Sheila told him, grabbing a satchel from a hook and hurrying off to the pantry.

Kieran grunted his appreciation and trudged onward when he realized Sheila wasn't continuing their conversation. He shoved the rest of the dumpling into his mouth with the frying pan until it was devoured, and kept walking.

"Cuore," he said a bit farther down the hallway. "Can you walk?"

When no response followed, he stared beseechingly at the ceiling.

"Of course not," he complained, nearly tripping down a set of stairs.

Kieran steadied himself at the bottom landing, mentally preparing for the next three flights that loomed steep and precarious before him.

"Good morning!" a monk greeted as he passed by, not bothering to offer assistance.

Kieran grimaced. He'd forgotten that Yang's people embraced suffering as part of their training.

"Enlightenment is a lie," he scowled, lurching down the next flight of steps as other monks casually walked past him in both directions.

Kieran finally reached the bottom with thighs burning from exertion and deep sweat rings on his shirt. The keep was behind him at last, but now the entire town lay before him, and he leaned despairingly against a wall to catch his breath.

Not a moment later, he felt something light and fragrant slip over his head.

A woman was standing in front of him with a wide, weathered smile. Kieran stared back at her quizzically, unsure of her intent, and then realized she was pointing to something around his neck.

"For the princess," she said, nodding at the wreath of peonies she had placed there.

Kieran glanced down and attempted a lopsided smile. "I will be sure she gets them?" he said.

"It will bring good fortune," the woman added before departing.

 _That was odd,_ he thought, watching her go. He adjusted Cuore's weight on his back again, and walked farther into town.

Along the way, other women began to crowd around him, slipping more wreaths around his and Cuore's neck until they were stacked all the way up to his nose.

"What in the—" he muttered as a girl practically leapt up to throw another wreath around his face. "No more!" he shouted, sputtering flower petals out of his mouth and bolting from the crowd that was now pressing around him in even greater numbers.

 _Where is Sheila when you need her_ , he thought as he weaved between cooing, overzealous onlookers. He had Sheila's frying pan, but using it would result in criminal charges and paperwork, and no one had time for that.

Kieran kept running on numb legs until he had escaped the crowd, crossed the field, and shimmied all the way onto the airship.

As soon as his boots touched the ship's decking, Kieran plummeted to his knees. He dropped Cuore unceremoniously at his side and fell face first onto the sun-bleached planking of the Farragut with unrepentant relief.

"Uhhhhhhhhh," Kieran uttered, unable to move for several minutes. He wondered idly if he'd broken his back, but no, his toes still worked.

Eventually, he pushed himself upright and waited for the world to stop spinning.

"Cuore," he said, staring at the back of her head. "Cuore," he tried again, poking her in the shoulder in an attempt to get her to move.

When the Immaculate Perfection refused to budge, Kieran tried to lift her, but Cuore unconsciously swung out her arm with alarming speed and struck him directly in the eye.

"Dammit all!" Kieran swore as he fell backwards.

"Unresolved issues?" Sheila asked, stepping onto the deck of the Farragut with a satchel of goods, gifts, and who knew what else.

Kieran sighed.

"Even unconscious she manages to find a way to drive me insane!" he shouted, still clutching his eye.

Sheila snorted. "The two of you look ridiculous," she said. "And I now see what became of all the peonies in the kingdom," she added a little more seriously.

"What are these even for?" Kieran demanded, holding a wreath toward the queen as if it were an accusation.

Sheila laughed. "A blessing of good fortune," she said.

"Really?" Kieran snapped. "Because I've had none of that since I left Baron!"

"Whoa," Sheila said, holding out her hands. "Let me add a letter to Rosa demanding that you be given a vacation when this is over."

Kieran stood in place, breathing hard. "They're already _married!"_ he seethed.

"Yes, I know! Stop announcing it to the world!" Sheila hissed, depositing her large satchel on the deck. "What even happened between the two of you?" she asked, pointing at Cuore who was now laying face-up, her arms splayed out in both directions.

"She broke up with me!" Kieran cried, gesturing helplessly at Cuore. "Because of mind control!"

"Wait, she was serious about that?" Sheila asked.

"Is she ever not serious?" Kieran snapped.

Sheila sighed. "Well, clearly this is why the two of you were paired up for this errand. To work this out."

"Why is it that I'm never the one with any say?" Kieran complained. "I can't even convince my own girlfriend that I love her without her deciding that I'm being coerced."

Sheila's brows rose unexpectedly high. "You _love_ her?"

Kieran paused. "Well. I do—I _did—_ before this entire ridiculous affair began."

Sheila laughed. "Have you told her that?"

"I expected her to pluck that fact from my mind—superior life form and all," Kieran said sourly.

"Oh my," Sheila said, tutting at him. "This sounds more complicated than I thought. How many more stops do you have to make?"

"Four."

"Good, that should be enough time for the two of you to tease the truth out of each other and mend your differences. Who knows, maybe you'll be married by week's end," she added with a sly smile.

Kieran glared at Sheila with a deadpan expression.

"Possibly?" the queen amended, trying to sound hopeful.

Kieran stalked off toward the ship's controls, nearly tripping on the top step. "At this rate, never!" he said flatly, practically punching the flight crystal to activate it.

"Have a safe journey, and good luck!" Sheila said as she climbed over the side of the ship. "And take care of that eye! It looks dreadful!"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kieran flew the Farragut to Damcyan in record time, landing there by the middle of the afternoon. Edward had laid down a "novel" surface near the castle to allow for airships to land and take off more efficiently, but it retained the heat of the sun well into the evening hours and tended to burn through the soles of unsuspecting boots.

Kieran could already see the heat shimmering above the tarmac as he stepped over Cuore's unconscious body and lowered the ramp to the ground. It would be a miracle if the ship didn't catch fire, and looking at the princess face-up in the sun, he wondered if he should try to move her to shade. No, he decided a split-second later, gently prodding his swelling eye as he walked down the ramp. He wouldn't be long anyways.

Kieran brought a canteen with him, scattering water onto the ground in front of his feet as if to bless it, and watched as the droplets instantly sizzled to vapor.

"Why does anyone live here?" he wondered aloud as he hurried toward the castle gate before his feet blistered.

Harley was already waiting for him, looking grave. Her stole was slightly askew, and her bun was sloppily arranged on the top of her head as if she hadn't slept for days.

"Did Rosa give you as complicated a missive as she gave us?" she asked, not bothering with pleasantries or protocols.

Kieran snorted as he climbed up the stone steps to meet her. "One as long as my arm," he replied.

"Because she sent _six,"_ Harley said, waving a stack of papers in the air.

"Yes, that sounds like Rosa," Kieran agreed, glad that his legs still worked as Harley suddenly turned on her heel and started walking.

"First she wanted strings, then she wanted brass," the secretary listed off. "Then she only wanted harp, then flute quartet….I'm just going to send them all!" she cried, expecting Kieran to keep up as she turned corner after corner through the well appointed offices of the west wing.

Kieran followed more slowly.

"Where's Cuore?" Harley asked, glancing back at him briefly. "And what happened to your face?"

"Cuore happened," he answered. "She's still on the ship."

Harley made a perplexed, inquisitive face.

"You two aren't still fighting, are you?"

Kieran shot her a look.

"Ah," Harley replied, understanding immediately. "Well that sounds dubiously familiar."

"This is only the second time!" Kieran said with a scowl as Harley sped through a doorway and didn't bother to hold the door.

"The two of you have been fighting since you met," Harley said. "What I meant to say was that this story has played out before—only this time, please don't let it drag on for seventeen years. I don't know if the world could handle that again."

Kieran racked his memory for names. "Are you referring to Edge and Rydia?"

Now it was Harley's turn to shoot him a look of reproof. "Of _course_ I'm talking about Edge and Rydia. Please don't turn this fight of yours into an encore of that seventeen year fiasco."

"Since when does the whole world have an opinion about my relationship?" Kieran asked, offended.

Harley afforded him a wicked side-eye. "Here are the documents for the musicians-their fee, their lodging, and the inventory for the instruments."

"Thank you, that was quick," Kieran told her, taking a stack of papers five inches thick.

"I'll just be happy to have Rosa out of my hair," Harley said curtly. "I trust you will see them safely to Baron on that ancient behemoth?"

"Yes, I will get them there," Kieran replied, ignoring the jab about the quality of his ship.

"Good. See you at the wedding," Harley said, instantly setting out on another errand of utmost importance and leaving Kieran behind in her office.

Kieran slowly made his return to the _Farragut_ where he discovered Cuore, her face now a vibrant red, still sprawled out on the deck.

"Cuore!" he shouted, his patience spent. "You need to get up!"

She pursed her lips and squinted her closed eyes even tighter in response.

"I know you're awake," Kieran said. "And you're going to be run over by a stampede of musicians if you don't move."

She groaned and rolled over.

"Fine," Kieran said, as he stepped over her and started moving things around the deck to create space for instruments. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

True to form, it wasn't long before the musicians began filing up the ramp of the airship and climbing aboard, stepping clumsily over Cuore.

"Why is she there?" a flutist inquired after tripping over Cuore's leg.

Kieran simply pointed to his face as explanation.

"Oh my," the flutist said, tip-toeing away.

"Just move around her," Kieran directed, sending people in the direction of the ship's hold.

One cellist was not as successful, stepping squarely on Cuore's hip and tipping forward until several of the other musicians kept him and his instrument from falling face-first onto the deck.

"It's really not safe for her to be there," the cellist complained.

"She isn't safe, period," Kieran replied, steering the cellist away from the princess.

"What!" Cuore suddenly said, sitting ram-rod straight all at once. Her head moved like a turret as she took stock of the situation, her eyes finally settling on Kieran's face.

"Where are we?" she demanded.

"Damcyan," Kieran answered.

Cuore blinked slowly. "Weren't we just in Fabul? Who are all these people?"

"The musicians," Kieran said simply, continuing to direct traffic.

Cuore then experimentally started touching her face. "Why does my face hurt?" she wondered aloud. "My face seems to have radiation burns—how did this happen?"

Kieran shrugged. "Any idea how this happened?" he asked, pointing to his eye.

Cuore squinted up at him. "How _did_ that happen?" she asked him.

"Let's just say we're even, now," he answered.

Cuore frowned at him. "You're not making any sense," she complained, climbing to her feet and swaying.

"I had no idea you had so little tolerance for alcohol," Kieran commented, watching her walk clumsily across the ship's deck to the cabin as though she'd suddenly aged fifty years.

"No one's perfect!" she said, almost tripping down the cabin stairs. "I'm sure that makes you happy!"

As soon as she was out of sight, Kieran allowed himself a wolfish smile. She was right, it _did_ make him happy.

"And why is this giant crate still here!" he heard her cry from below deck after a terrific crash.

Kieran chuckled and climbed to the ship's helm, setting coordinates for Agart. He would deal with Cuore later, but first—they had a marriage license to destroy.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A/N: Yes, it's been a while. I always underestimate the beginning of the school year and its effects on my schedule. BUT I think this story is now half-way done, so there's that ;)

HERE IT IS, MOONCLAW! Enjoy :)


	5. Something New

Something New

When Kieran ventured below deck later in the evening, leaving the ship in the hands of a violinist who claimed to have flight experience, Cuore was nowhere to be found.

He sighed with relief, too tired for an argument, and weaved between crates and instruments toward the ship's only sleeping accommodations. With all of their new guests and cargo, the ship's hold was nearly impassable, but at the very rear of the ship, a tiny sleeping hatch had been built into the wall. For all the Farragut's faults and flaws, this space-saving device was probably Cid's most ingenious invention.

Kieran pulled the worn cord to open the hatch into a makeshift bed, but noticed that after a tug of sufficient force, nothing had budged. Kieran stood back and stared at the wall in frustration. He'd done this a dozen times on a dozen separate flights. Had the wood somehow expanded? He pulled the cord again and when nothing happened the second time, Kieran became suspicious.

"Can't even give me a functioning ship, and now the only thing about this flying death trap that I like is the one thing that doesn't work?!" he shouted at the wall, kicking it for good measure. Something _twanged_ the moment his foot made impact and Kieran paused just long enough for a brief surge of hope to override the pain in his toe.

This time he gave the cord a sharper tug, and the bed finally came careening loose from its trappings. Alarmed, Kieran leapt out of the way as the hatch, the mattress, and a white-knuckled Cuore crashed horizontally into view.

"Wha—" he started to say, as Cuore sprang off of the mattress with wild eyes.

"What kind of torture device is that!" she cried, pressing herself against a crate and staring at the bed with malice.

" _What?"_ Kieran uttered, finally completing his thought.

"It tried to eat me!" she shrieked.

Kieran stared at her in the dim lantern light, waiting for his heart to return to its normal rhythm.

"Why were you inside the wall?" he wanted to know, his eyes traveling from her to the space in the wall and back again.

"I told you," Cuore said, gesturing emphatically. "It tried to _eat_ me!"

"What did you—how—" Kieran struggled to say as he hastily massaged his temples. "It's not an evil wall, it's not a trap door, it's a sleeping hatch for goodness sake!"

"Why would you sleep in a hatch?" Cuore demanded. "That's what beds are for!"

Kieran paced away from her, collected himself, and returned.

"You know you're supposed to sleep _on_ it, not _in_ it, right?" Kieran asked with a dubious look.

"Don't look at me like I'm drunk," she huffed, as the color returned to her cheeks.

"With all of your knowledge and mechanical expertise, how did you even manage to do it?"

"I laid on it," she said, gesturing to the mattress, "and then it snapped shut like a pair of jaws!"

Kieran scoffed and sat down on the edge of the mattress, daring to bounce on it.

"What are you doing!" Cuore shrieked, more hysterical that she had any right to be.

"Proving a point!" he said with a laugh. "That _clearly_ you're still drunk!"

"I am not drunk," she said archly. "Hungover, maybe. That doesn't deny the fact that that bed tried to eat me."

Kieran's expression flattened. "Here lies Cuore. The Farragut ate her."

"It's not funny!" she yelled, flashing angry eyes at him.

He paused and looked up at her. "Why are you so upset?"

Cuore stood frozen, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides.

"Cuore," Kieran prodded, his amusement fading when he noticed the crease deepening on her forehead.

"The pods," she spat out. "The ones that we—that I—came from."

"The ones on the other moon," he surmised.

She nodded. "You don't know what it's like. Going in and wondering if you'll come out as yourself or someone else."

Kieran sighed deeply. "It's just a bed, Cuore. But I get it—I do," he said, interrupting an indignant outburst before it could form. "I've known you long enough to see the negative consequences of your telepathy."

"So you understand, then," she said, sounding miserable. "Why we can't be together."

He pursed his lips and flopped back onto the mattress, staring intently at the ceiling. "No. I don't understand that at all," he said with more lightness than he felt.

Cuore allowed a long pause to rise between them, though in his periphery, Kieran could see her with her hands on her hips, primed for a battle.

"You're angry that I saved you from a life of unconscious servitude," Cuore stated, as if it were fact.

"How very arrogant of you to assume I needed saving in the first place!" he shot back. "I made a choice—a _conscious_ choice and once again you _assumed_ I was a weak, inferior species in need of your intervention!"

"I tricked you into caring for me!" she cried. "I have that power, you know—to influence and coerce. I couldn't put you through a life like that, knowing it wasn't you but me that wanted it."

"You…idiot!" Kieran said, sitting up to glare at her. "I chose to love you! And I know that scares you—so much so that you invented the most bizarre excuse to get out of it, but there it is!"

"You see? I'm obsessed with being in control!" she cried.

Kieran screwed up his expression. "Cuore, did you even hear what I just _said?"_

"You said many things," she said, uncharacteristically flustered. "Please be more specific."

Kieran finally raised his hands in defeat. "No. I'm going to bed."

"Not on that, I hope," she said with a huff.

"It's the only bed on the ship," Kieran argued.

Cuore took a moment to glance around.

"Where will I sleep?"

"The floor," Kieran deadpanned as he secured the bed to the iron ring embedded in the floorboard.

"Oh," she said, frowning. "On second thought, who exactly is in charge of the ship?"

"A violinist," came his muffled reply as he turned over onto his stomach.

" _What?"_ she demanded. "This old pile of mechanical garbage that requires a skilled hand to fly, and you left it to a _violinist?"_

Kieran peered at her with one eye. "There's more than one way to get out of a wedding."

"I have no intention of dying on a mission for Rosa," Cuore said matter-of-factly, starting to pace.

"Wait a minute-did you just pay me a compliment?" Kieran asked, pushing himself onto his elbows.

"I did no such thing," Cuore replied. "Your skill was never in question. Your sanity, however."

"Well, have fun being in control. Don't crash," Kieran said, flopping back onto the mattress face-first.

"Me crash an airship," she muttered, stomping toward the stairs. "Who am I, Ceodore?"

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Kieran awoke the next day with a ferocious headache. The sound of the Farragut's engines was ominously absent and for that he was relieved, but it worried him that he couldn't hear the voices of Cuore or the musicians.

Sitting up, he also noticed that he now had an unobstructed view of the stairs. Where had the crate gone? There was no way he'd slept long enough for them to have returned to Baron, was there?

"Hello?" he called, but received no response.

He pried himself off of the mattress and trudged up the stairs where the deck of the Farragut was also empty. No one was on board and he couldn't even recognize the landscape with its steep rock faces reaching toward the sky and the dense woodland that clothed them. Concerned, he peered over the railing.

"You're awake!" Cuore said, looking up at him from the ground. She had a coil of rope draped over her shoulder with an assortment of tools in her hand; seemingly engaged in a task.

"What are you doing?" he called down.

"Fixing your ship," she answered.

"Fixing my—why, what have you done to it?"

"Me?" she huffed. "Now who's making assumptions!"

"Where are we?" Kieran asked instead, trying to get a lay of the land.

"Forty miles southwest of Agart, give or take," she replied.

He frowned, trying to do calculations in his head. "When did we arrive in Agart?"

"This morning. I figured I'd let you sleep, since you have been nothing but rude to me since we set off on this journey."

"Says the woman who punched me in the face," he muttered back at her.

"Oh, is that how that happened?" she said with a smirk.

Kieran ran a hand through his short, dark hair and yawned. "Why aren't we in Mysidia?"

"Because your ship is broken," she retorted.

"So we made it all the way from Damcyan to Agart, but we couldn't make the quick trip to Mysidia?"

"Because Cid practically built a self-destruct sequence into this vessel. I should have words with him when we return to Baron. If we return to Baron."

"Are you telling me you crashed my ship?" Kieran wanted to know, squinting one of his eyes at her.

"I did not _crash_ the ship," Cuore said, agitated, as she crouched low to look at something underneath the Farragut.

Kieran groaned and descended down to the ground to inspect the damage with his own eyes.

"I should have known," he said when he saw the smashed landing gears. "We're carrying too much weight."

"We have no choice but to sacrifice the musicians," Cuore said with a sigh.

Kieran stared at her. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Extreme? My ears are still ringing from that devilish cylinder with the holes going on four hours, now," she complained.

"The flute?"

"Yes, that."

Kieran paused and glanced off at the trees. "Speaking of the musicians, where are they?"

Cuore made a face as she pondered a solution to the problem of the airship and the location of the musicians simultaneously.

"Near a water source," she answered vaguely, gesturing inland.

Kieran slapped his forehead and took a few steps away from the airship. "If anything happens to them it'll be Harley who haunts us to the end of our days. You know that, right?"

"Harley can't haunt us because she isn't dead, and ghosts don't exist in the first place."

"I was speaking figuratively," Kieran groaned.

"Well, don't. It serves no purpose," Cuore chided him, slipping beneath the ship's hull to examine one of the gears more closely. "But you're right—she would be cross."

"I'm going to make sure none of them has succumbed to bad water," Kieran decided, walking slowly toward the forest.

"Can you check if I left the octagonal wrench with the supplies I gave them?" Cuore asked.

Kieran swiveled to squint at her. "Why would they have it?"

Cuore scooted out from under the ship and rose to her full height, hands on hips. "I'm recovering from liver damage, radiation burns, this broken death trap of a ship, and an onslaught of difficult emotions, and you want to give me attitude about an octagonal wrench?" she demanded.

Kieran stared at her with both brows raised. "Okay, I'll check," he said, backing away in defeat.

"Piece of garbage," he heard her mutter at the ship as he lengthened his stride to escape her presence.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"It's been twelve hours," the cellist said in boredom, glancing sideways at Kieran.

Kieran rested back on his hands and stared up at the sky. "I think we'll be here a while longer," he said with a sigh, watching the stars twinkle overhead.

"We have three days until the wedding," a flutist mentioned. "If we don't arrive on time, does that mean we don't get paid?"

"None of us get paid," Kieran replied without thinking. "Some of us die."

At the alarmed looks of several of the musicians, Kieran finally realized what he'd said.

"Not you, of course," he assured them, waving nonchalantly.

"I thought Lady Cuore was a genius," a violinist said. "Can't she fix the ship faster?"

"Genius or not, supplies don't just materialize," Kieran said.

"Shouldn't you be helping her?" the violinist asked.

"Yes, well, Cuore and I are having philosophical differences that make working together difficult."

"I thought you two were finally dating. What happened?"

Kieran stood up, rolling his eyes. "Don't ask," he said, walking away from the fire to go check on Cuore and the airship.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

When he reached the Farragut, Cuore was nowhere to be found. The moon was bright in the sky and made the path easily viewable, but there was no sight of her anywhere.

"Cuore?" Kieran called, wondering if she'd gone below deck.

He climbed aboard the Farragut, careful not to trip over the loose board in the decking as his eyes scanned the ship for a glimpse of her.

"Cuore, are you on board?" he called again, walking to the far side of the ship where he had a view of the beach below.

There he found her, sitting just shy of the surf as her teal hair shone silver around her in the moonlight.

It took him a few minutes to reach her, and when he did, he sat down at her left without saying a word.

"Did you mean what you said?" she asked without looking at him.

"I said many things," he answered, taking a page from her own book. "Please be more specific."

She speared him with a glare. "That you made a conscious choice to love me," she elaborated.

Kieran smirked, looking out over the ocean. "It only took you twenty four hours to suss that out," he said. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd heard me at all."

"You know I don't speak the language of emotions," she argued. "Edge always says it's my greatest weakness."

Kieran chuckled. "Well, he would."

"The reason you were angry with me in Troia," she said slowly. "Was it because you were upset that I rejected you?"

Kieran sighed. "Cuore," he began. "You've rejected me before, it was the _way_ you did it that made absolutely no sense."

"I already told you—I didn't want to coerce you into caring for me."

"And I'm telling you that people care about others for any number of reasons, manipulative or not. I'm not afraid to love you, Cuore. That's my choice. I thought that _maybe_ you might feel the same way about me as I feel about you, and that I might persuade _you_ into a more…official form of relationship."

"You'd like to mate with me," she said matter-of-factly.

Kieran nearly choked on his own spit. "What?" he sputtered. "Well, actually—yes, I guess that's what I'm saying, but dammit, Cuore, you don't have to put it so bluntly."

"I," she started to say, and then considered her answer more carefully. "I sense that I have intense feelings of concern for you. I worry about your well being; I find your opinions interesting, and despite this most recent journey, I enjoy your company. I suppose those feelings all support the idea of 'love' as you understand it."

Kieran made a doubtful face. "You're halfway there, anyway."

"I don't want you or anyone to think that my intense feelings are forcing you to have emotions about me that aren't true," she went on.

"Cuore, if your intense feelings were really fooling me into some grand delusion, I would be following you around like a lost puppy, unable to live or breathe without your approval. To be honest, I would be perfectly happy leaving you here on this island and enjoying a solitary vacation in Mysidia for a year or longer, but the truth is, I'm still here putting up with your insufferable self."

Cuore narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm going to assume your colorful illustration was meant to prove a point and not simply to insult me," she said.

"That is a safe assumption, yes," he answered. "And you still haven't replied to my question."

"What question?" she wanted to know. "Your vague offer of mating?"

He slapped his forehead again. "Before that, I would like you to consider…the possibility of allowing me to be your partner through life."

"You mean, like Edge and Rydia. A team," Cuore said.

"A dysfunctional team," Kieran muttered.

"I admit, the idea of us being a team makes sense," she said. "You fly airships and I understand their mechanics. Additionally, our offspring would have many interesting traits."

"Well?" he asked.

"Can I take some time to think about it?" she asked.

"Yes, but I want to see your pro and con list before you make your decision," he said.

"Why?"

"So I can at least have a chance to defend myself," he said with a smirk.

"That seems fair," she decided. "Very well, I accept your terms. But first, shouldn't we fix the airship?"

Kieran glanced back at the crumbling wreck on the hill, and she turned to look at it as well.

"Tomorrow," they both agreed.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Happy New Year, everyone! At last! The next chapter! This one had me stumped for a while, but I finally got it untangled just before the end of winter break. Methinks, there will be one more chapter to this story and then it will be done. No clue when it will appear, as this year is another nail biter and I'm not always in the mood to write. But. It will get done ;)

Thanks for reading!

~Myth


	6. A Sixpence in Your Shoe

A Sixpence in your Shoe

"Where are they?" Rosa demanded, wringing her hands as she paced vigorously across the garden terrace. Cecil looked up at his wife with feigned interest while Kain pretended to blend in with the wall.

"Why did you let them take the Farragut?" she cried, whirling around, and searching for Kain with narrowed eyes.

"Because you had every other ship tied up sending missives!" Kain said in his own defense.

"I _knew_ we shouldn't have sent your apprentice. He ruins everything!" she exclaimed, beginning to pace again.

"Don't worry!" Cecil said; shuffling through the responses they'd received from Rosa's missives, five inches deep. "Cuore went with him."

"Alone?" she asked with a blink. "Without a chaperone?"

Cecil and Kain shared a look of panicked solidarity.

"There'll be war with Eblan in the morning," Rosa said, white-faced, as she turned on her heel and continued to pace.

Cecil stopped pretending to read and watched his wife's frantic journey across the terrace.

"She's going to end up pregnant, Edge and Rydia will be furious, the castle will be on fire, and I'll never have grandchildren!"

Just then, a servant cautiously approached and slipped another note into Cecil's hands.

"Rosa," Cecil sighed. "Edge is too lazy to go to war with us."

"What did it say?" she asked, not even looking at her husband.

"What?" Cecil asked.

"That—the note!" she said with a careless gesture, the pitch of her voice rising.

"It's time to get ready for the ceremony," he said, looking up at her imploringly. "I'm sure you'll want to look your best as the world burns down around you."

"Is that a joke?" she hissed.

For a tense moment, they stared at each other.

"This is your fault," Rosa said, pointing at Kain. "If your apprentice wasn't such an incorrigible pain in the ass, this never would have happened."

"Don't blame this on Kain," Cecil interceded. "It's not his fault that you couldn't make up your mind until six days before the wedding. I have the missives to prove it."

"I've never overseen a political event of this magnitude, have you?"

"Of course it's important that the wedding goes smoothly, but it's not worth panicking over wine, music, and a veil," Cecil argued, becoming more annoyed. "The wedding will proceed with these things or without."

"But we'll be the laughing stock of the world!"

"The world could use a good laugh," Cecil said, then glanced again at the note in his hand. "You really should get ready."

"I don't want to face anyone," she retorted.

"You don't want to look fabulous for the end of the world?" Cecil said lightly.

"I always look fabulous," Rosa seethed, marching off of the terrace. "Stop being an ass."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"It occurs to me that even if we depart in the next three hours, there's no way that we'll arrive in Baron in time for the wedding."

"Only now this occurs to you?" Kieran asked, climbing out from underneath the Farragut with leaves stuck to his dark hair.

"Is it sound?" Cuore asked, nodding at the landing gear.

"It's sound," he assured her. "We can get the musicians on board as soon as possible and at least arrive in time for the summary executions."

"Or we could skip the wedding altogether," she suggested. "After all, it's just for show."

Kieran paused and stared inquiringly at the ship. "We do have the band," he mused. "And the wine, food, and gifts."

"We could have our own party," Cuore suggested.

Kieran looked at her sideways. "I was thinking something more romantic," he sighed, leaning in to kiss her.

"And I haven't compiled my pro con list," Cuore said, placing a finger between their lips. "The world can't handle another clandestine wedding right now."

Kieran groaned at her, paused, and then suddenly drew away. "We definitely can't go to Baron," he said sharply.

"Why does your face look like that?" Cuore asked, staring at him with concern.

"We can't go to Baron," he repeated with a furrowed brow.

"Just a moment ago you were going to kiss me!" Cuore observed. "What's happened between now and then?"

"That was before I realized I was about to die!" he said, beginning to pace.

"We've been joking about this for years. Why is now any different?"

"Cuore," he said.

"Kieran," she said back with an arched brow.

"If we don't make it back for the wedding, I will never be able to show my face in Baron again. I'll have to live on Mount Ordeals—it'll be Kain all over again!"

"You can't live on Mount Ordeals," Cuore contested. "There's nothing there, and more importantly, it's too far away."

"Cuore, do you understand what I'm saying?" he shouted.

She tapped her foot on the ground and pursed her lips. "Rosa _might_ kill you," she mused. "But I have a better idea than you getting cozy with zombies. Go get the musicians."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"This is a bad idea," Kieran said, looking a bit green as he leaned against the crate that had lodged itself against the side of the cabin stairs.

"We landed twenty minutes ago," Cuore informed him. "Why are you hiding?"

"Because we're about to cause an international incident."

"Think of it as strengthening the trade relationship between two nations," she said with a tilt of her head. "Edge will be so happy to know he finally has the makings of an airship fleet."

Kieran's expression was flat. "He won't be pleased when he finds out it's the Farragut."

Cuore grinned. "The plan will work."

"Oh, you think so?" Kieran asked sarcastically as he followed her up the cabin stairs, stopping at the top. "You know," he said, looking at Cuore. "After we dumped all the extra cargo, we never did find out what Edge put in that crate."

"You're right," she said, narrowing her eyes. "Ceodore doesn't have to know that we opened it."

They both returned to the ship's cabin and stared at the enormous crate that Edge had stowed there days ago.

"What is all of this?" Cuore asked after they'd pried off the lid, plucking out handfuls of straw.

Kieran snorted. "Leave it to Edge to give the most obnoxious wedding present."

"He didn't seriously fill an entire crate with straw, did he?" Cuore asked, bent over the side of the crate and at risk of falling in.

"Cuore!" Kieran cried, holding onto her ankles as she dove to the bottom.

"Got it!" she called, clamoring up the side of the crate while Kieran hoisted her legs.

"What is it?" Kieran asked once Cuore was standing beside him again.

"A crane," she said, holding the delicately folded paper bird with two fingers.

They both stared at it and then at each other. "Does it say anything?" Kieran asked.

"It's a paper crane, Kieran. It can't talk."

He glared at her. "Is there anything _written_ on it?" he clarified.

Cuore twirled the bird in the air and then unfolded it carefully.

She instantly pursed her lips.

"What does it say?" Kieran prodded.

"It says, 'fix it'," she said. "And it's in Rydia's handwriting."

"You don't think they planned this, do you?"

"'Fix it'," Cuore repeated, frowning. "What does that even mean?"

Kieran barked out a laugh as he climbed the stairs again. "It means someone has a terrible sense of humor."

"Wait!" Cuore cried after him as she bounded up the stairs. "I should go first. This was my idea, after all."

"Yes, do that," Kieran said, beckoning her in front of him like a human shield.

"I thought you didn't like being protected," she muttered as she walked down the ramp to the ground.

"He's _your_ father," he said under his breath as the king of Eblan strode down the hillside path to the airship docks to greet them.

"What are you doing here?" Edge demanded, walking toward them with outstretched, beseeching arms. "The wedding was in Baron, or didn't you get Rosa's fifteen missives?"

Kieran and Cuore exchanged a look.

"Speaking of that, Kieran would like to request asylum," Cuore announced.

Edge stopped in his tracks and assessed them both, looking imperious.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We missed the wedding," Cuore elaborated.

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Edge said tiredly, gesturing for them to hurry up and get to the point. "I noticed that when I showed up to a wedding with no musicians, best man, or wine!"

"We were carrying too much weight," Cuore explained. "We had to set down for repairs and it took longer than expected."

"You still haven't explained why he's requesting asylum," Edge said testily, nodding at Kieran. "Is there a war I'm not aware of?"

"You know how Rosa holds a grudge," Cuore reminded her father. "She's going to blame Kieran for this—possibly forever."

Edge glanced between them, paused, and immediately turned and started walking back up the hill.

"That was a shining endorsement." Kieran muttered with a frown.

"Wait until he learns that you want to mate with me," she mentioned with a smirk.

"What?" Edge barked, glancing at them over his shoulder.

"Nothing," Cuore assured him. "Will you help?"

"Why do I have to be stuck with Kain's apprentice?" Edge complained. "Not only did I have to give a gift, but then I had to suffer through the most boring wedding of all time, and now I'm supposed to bear the brunt of Rosa's anger by harboring the fugitive responsible for the disaster?"

"Yes," Cuore said with an emphatic nod.

Edge sighed, finally coming to a stop. "Fine," he huffed, looking down at the Farragut. "Maybe I could extort a few more airships out of them in exchange for his life."

"Father," Cuore chided, giving him a look.

"Daughter," Edge parroted back, looking none-too-pleased. Eventually, his stance became less defiant. "Yes, he can stay," he conceded. "If only to get under Rosa's skin."

"Thank you," Cuore said with a smile.

Edge suddenly frowned. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What? No! Why?" Cuore demanded, placing her hands on her hips as Kieran's face went ghostly pale.

Edge shook his head. "Something Rosa had written in her latest missive, apologizing profusely for the wedding. I glossed over it mostly, until your mother noticed that Rosa thought you were pregnant."

Cuore looked at Kieran who was starting to turn green again. "That woman needs grandchildren. Soon," Cuore decided, looking at her father. "No, I'm not pregnant!"

"Good," Edge said, beckoning them toward the castle. "Because then I'd have to kill you," he told Kieran as he walked past.

"Well I'm not, so you don't," Cuore said, hastily sending Kieran on ahead of her.

"But Cuore," Edge began, following behind them.

"Yes?" she asked, looking back at him and noticing the line of people departing the Farragut with their instruments on their backs.

Edge arched a brow at her, having noticed the same thing. "What exactly am I supposed to do with all these damn musicians?!"

~Fin~

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A/N: And there it is! Finally done, three years later…haha. Oops.

Now I get to write its sequel! I'm super excited. You might see it by October XD

(also, the chapters were named after the superstition of bridal preparations including something borrowed, something blue, something new, etc…)

Poor Rosa….all the best laid plans!

Thanks for reading!

~Myth


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